


the great immovable

by winchestersinthedrift



Series: wincest drabbles [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affection, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, later seasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestersinthedrift/pseuds/winchestersinthedrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This hasn’t changed, though both of them have, and most of their enemies too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the great immovable

He’s pretty sure there used to be a part of him that was afraid it wouldn’t last, that one day he’d wake up and Sam would be sleeping on the other side of the motel room, that one night he’d look over and not get a surge of heat in his gut at the sight of Sam’s face. Well, sometimes they do sleep apart, each in their own room; but that’s because Sam snores like a fucker whenever the pollen gets bad.

But this, this hasn’t changed. He’s sitting on a polyester bedspread at the end of a motel bed and Sam is down on the floor in front of him, nudged between his knees, and this is the same as it’d been the first time it happened: Sam’s hands lighting tiny torches of fire over his skin, flickering flames that smoulder and smoke and choke him with desire; Sam’s fingers on the inside of his thighs, pressing them apart and down onto the edge of the bed; the perfect bow of Sam’s upper lip stretched a little sideways over his cock; and Sam’s eyes, sometimes closed and sometimes flicking up to brush heavy across Dean’s face.

This hasn’t changed, though both of them have, and most of their enemies too. Dean feels sometimes like this is the Great Immovable, the thing that’s kept its shape through a thousand hunts, a hundred months, through life and death itself: the little sounds Sam makes in his throat when Dean puts his hands in his hair, the way he looks when he presses his hips between Dean’s legs and lies over him flushed and full-lipped, hair falling forward into his face.

A hundred months have put grey in Sam’s hair and cut the lines of Dean’s face in sharper strokes, but they are the same; and sometimes they sleep apart, and they eat a little less bacon; but nothing real has changed. The Great Immovable keeps its shape.


End file.
